


Sanctioned

by GrandNinjaMasterRen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Anti-Jedi Sentiments, Assassins & Hitmen, Betrayal, Canon-Typical Violence, Clone Wars, Droids, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Internal Conflict, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Murder, Recovery, The Dark Side of the Force, Time Travel, Trauma, Turning Away From The Dark Side
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23464969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrandNinjaMasterRen/pseuds/GrandNinjaMasterRen
Summary: There was a twinge of something in his chest, remorse or conscience, he assumed, but she didn’t waver. Her force presence was wrapped around him gently, shielding their conversation from the rest of the Jedi Council.Do I frighten you?I’m tired of fighting.You are world weary. If you wish, I will grant you rest.He didn’t answer her with words in the force, but with the relaxation of his muscles. She wouldn’t lie, whether for good or ill, she wouldn’t be lying.
Relationships: Juno Eclipse/Galen Marek
Comments: 1
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter 1

Obi-Wan studied the supposed Sith Lord where he stood, shoulders hunched, hand straying to where his lightsaber should have been. The boy was steeped in the dark side, it oozed from him in a way that made Obi-Wan want to take a shower. There was fear in the way his eyes darted around, counting and re-counting the council members. That the boy was a darksider, Obi-Wan could believe, but a Sith Lord? 

“He’s dangerous! We should kill him where he stands!” Ki-Adi-Mundi shouted. The boy flinched and bared his teeth like some kind of animal. 

“He’s a child!” Depa Billaba countered. 

“Leave him alone, we cannot.” Yoda pointed out. Mace Windu glanced at Yoda from the corner of his eyes, a firm frown set on his face.

“Imprisonment, then?” Obi-Wan asked; he really didn’t like where this was going.

“It would be safer.” Mace agreed. 

“Again, need I remind you: he is a _child_. There are _initiates_ older than him.” Billaba said firmly, her dark eyes flashed, daring her former teacher to challenge her.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked back to the subject of the argument as the council continued to raise in volume. The boy was focused on Shaak Ti, but even more curious than the object of his fascination was the fact that he had visibly relaxed. No longer were his muscles tense and tight, and although he still did look like he expected to be attacked, the dark side wasn’t quite as aggressive around him. 

“I will take him as my padawan learner.” Shaak Ti said, her voice cutting through the din. 

The room was silent. 

“Wise, are you sure, this is, Master Ti?” Yoda said frowning, “A great danger, he could be.”

“As could any jedi. He is but a child. A child that has been mistreated and betrayed by his caretaker. If he has fallen to the dark, it is because he knows not of any other way.” 

Obi-Wan stroked his beard as he contemplated. 

“And what do you think, young one?” Obi-Wan asked, finally addressing the boy.

“I am willing to learn.” His voice was soft and low, gentle even, but strong, like Aeien silk covered durasteel. He glanced at Obi-Wan from the corner of his eye, recognition was there, along with a hint of awe and a modicum of fear. 

“Then, confer upon you, the rank of ‘Padawan’, the council does.” 

* * *

Starkiller fixed his eyes upon his new master. Calling the jedi ‘master’, even inside his head, didn’t bring the same sort of discomfort that calling Vader the term did. As he followed Shaak Ti out of the council room, he asked the question that was burning in his mind.

“Are you not frightened of me?” His master turned to face him.

“No. Would you rather I was?” She posed. Starkiller tried to lie, to tell her yes, but the words died on his tongue.  ** Why did she have to keep  _looking_ ** **at him with those too calm eyes‽**

He turned his head away.

“I don’t know.” He said eventually. She smiled warmly at him. 

“It’s alright, young one.” She placed her hand on his arm. Starkiller pulled away.

“What do want from me? I  _killed_ you, so why are you helping me?” His voice never raised, but the intensity of his words couldn’t be denied. 

“You are still a child, Starkiller, only fifteen. What Vader made you do, and... what he did to you, it doesn’t change that fact. You are a child, and children are supposed to be protected.” Anger bubbled up in his gut, anger and shame and guilt and fear and grief. His body was cold, a familiar chill, but his cheeks were hot. And she was still looking at him with that same expression, sorrow and concern mingling together.

“Master?” Starkiller asked. Shaak Ti smiled again.

“Let’s get you settled into your room and then see about getting you some robes, and after dinner, we’ll get you your braid.” She was waiting for a response, he realized after an awkwardly long pause.

“Yes, master.” He said lowering his head, but when he peeked up at her through his lashes, she was smiling almost fondly. Swallowing thickly, Starkiller followed her down the temple halls.


	2. Chapter 2

The strands of false hair that made up Starkiller’s padawan braid had been neatly bonded to his own hair; it hadn’t hurt, but he didn’t exactly know what  _it_ was in the first place. He flicked the braid off his neck. He was beginning to sweat in the heavy jedi robes he now wore. The braid fell back around his neck. Growling, Starkiller flicked the braid again.  ** How could _he_ be  _losing_ to  _ his own hairstyle ‽ _ **

Laughter broke him out of his focus. Master Ti, back from whatever gossip session/staff meeting thing she’d had to go to, stood in the doorway that led from Starkiller’s own bedroom to the common area that joined his to his master’s. Hot anger and embarrassment burned at his cheeks as he ducked his head. 

“I didn’t think you were still awake.” She said softly, then frowned, “Is something the matter?” Starkiller looked up at her. Then he sighed and clasped his hands together, resting them on his lap. His head was next to be lowered, sitting precariously against his hands. 

“Can’t sleep is all.” He heard the rustling of fabric as his master sat next to him on the bed. 

“Something is troubling you.” She observed. 

“It’s nothing. I’m fine. I just-“ Master Ti put her hand on her padawan’s back. Starkiller sat up, turning towards her slightly.

“I just-“ he started again gesturing vaguely with his hands as if that could convey the words he couldn’t find.

“I don’t-... I-i can’t... I don’t-... I don’t want... to be alone, right now.” Master Ti smiled softly at her apprentice, drew him close in a half hug.

“Then I shall stay by your side until you fall asleep.” Starkiller glanced at her in alarm.

“That’s not what I- I mean you don’t have to-“ She cut off his protests with a tap of her finger to his nose. Starkiller stared, crosseyed, at his own nose with abject confusion. 

“But I want to. I want to make sure that you are comfortable. So, I’ll go get my datapad, and sit in that chair-” here she indicated the slightly wobbly desk chair- “and read until you fall asleep.” He began sputtering, protesting about how unnecessary it was, but she had already retrieved her datapad, dimmed the lights, settled into the chair, and began reading aloud.

Starkiller fell asleep to the cadence of his master’s voice.


	3. Chapter 3

Starkiller glanced up from his breakfast when someone sat down in front of him. A human male, perhaps a few years older than the former assassin. 

“You’re Master Ti’s new padawan, right?” 

“Yes,” Starkiller said, his voice kept low, quiet, and even, “What of it?” The elder jedi, still clearly sporting a padawan braid, bristled at the brusque tone. 

“I was sent to get you for the council.” Starkiller pushed his plate away, grabbing the Zeance fruit from his plate and bit into it. He tilted his head to indicate the other padawan to lead. 

“I’m Anakin, by the way.” 

“Starkiller.” 

“That’s... not a normal name..?” Anakin hedged uncertainly. 

“That’s because it’s not my real name.” Starkiller said matter-of-factly, continuing to eat his breakfast. 

“Then what is?” Anakin asked curiously. Starkiller glanced sideways at his companion as they walked and pointedly took another bite. Anakin opened his mouth to demand an answer, but thought better of it and merely turned away. 

When the mismatched pair reached the council room, Anakin instantly perched himself on the arm of his master’s chair. Starkiller moved to his master’s side; he dipped his head in acknowledgment of her motherly smile. 

“With you, you take your padawan, Master Ti?” Yoda asked. Shaak tilted her head delicately. 

“Yes. I think Starkiller may be more comfortable outside the temple.” Starkiller glanced nervously at his master, but she waved him off.  _ Later, later, _ her whisper came through the force. 

* * *

The moment Starkiller stepped out of the ship he was soaked to the bone. Between the large waves crashing against the platform, and the torrential downpour from the lightning-kissed sky, water was  ** everywhere ** , and Starkiller instantly  ** hated ** the planet. Master Ti set her hand on his shoulder, squeezed it gently and walked into the building with the other masters, leaving Starkiller (and Anakin) to follow. 

* * *

Standing in neatly regimented lines, the clones were far taller than Starkiller had expected; when the Marshal Commander stepped forward, he was slightly shorter than the ex-sith. The Marshal Commander pulled off his helmet and began to explain the battalion division to the Jedi Council. 

Starkiller absently flicked his braid off the back of his neck as he studied the clone army. 

Their armor was different enough from that of the Stormtrooper Corps that Starkiller wasn’t entirely unnerved, but the similarities didn’t escape him.

The jedi masters each had their own battalion, with the Marshal Commander being Kenobi’s first-in-command. And, for Starkiller, seeing them side-by-side was enough to put a name to the eerily familiar face: CC-2224, Commander Cody, the clone that had formed most of the Empire’s protocols, as well as having trained a large portion of the Stormtrooper Corps.

Master Ti’s hand on his arm drew him out of his observations. 

“You and I, my dear padawan, are going to supervise the clones’ training.” Starkiller swallowed thickly.

“They’re going to die.” He said, soft and low and controlled. She moved her hand, as if to cup his face, but he pulled away.

“We both know how this ends.” He whispered. 

“The future is not set in stone, child. Your destiny is what you make of it.”

“The Emperor-“ Starkiller began, his voice stronger this time.

“He is not Emperor,” Master Ti said icily, “Not yet.”

“How can we stop him? He has an army and I-“ Starkiller cut himself off with a frustrated growl. 

“It starts here, with us. You and me and the difference we can make.” Master Ti put her hand on his shoulder, squeezed it gently, offering comfort. 

“Hope,” she said, “Is like the sun. If you only believe in it when you can see it-“

“You’ll never make it through the night.” Starkiller finished, meeting his master’s eyes for the first time in their conversation. She smiled at him and brushed her hand over his cheek. This time he let her.


	4. Chapter 4

Starkiller sighed. The children crowded closer around him.

“Please?” One of the clones asked.

“No.” 

“Pretty, pretty please?” Another almost identical child pleaded from somewhere around elbow height.

Starkiller sighed.

“Fine.” He growled, “Give me some space.” The clones eagerly backed away, lining the walls in neat lines, giving Starkiller the majority of the mid-sized room for his demonstration. 

With a click and a hiss, his blue blade sprung to life, casting the room in searing light.

“A lightsaber,” Starkiller said, finding that he rather enjoyed the looks of awe, “Is the weapon of a Jedi Knight.” With a quick motion, he flipped the blade, holding it backhand as was his preference.

“It’s not as clumsy, or random,” He said, sliding through forms with exaggerated precision, “As a blaster. It is-“ He tossed the blade into the air and caught the hilt.

“-an elegant weapon for a more civilized age.” And the blue light cast his face in odd shadows, but the children didn’t quite seem to notice.

“Can I hold it?” One asked, before hiding behind his nearest brother. Starkiller briefly weighed his options, then-

“Come here.” The boy, hesitant, but unafraid, walked up to Starkiller.

“How do you call yourself?” The jedi asked. 

“CT-5555, sir.” The boy said, saluting primly.  _It could almost be called cute_ ,  Starkiller mused,  _ if it wasn’t such a tragedy. _

“Alright then, CT-5555,” Starkiller gently guided the clone’s hands around the grip, “Careful, the hilt has weight, but the blade does not.” Starkiller withdrew from CT-5555 and let the boy swing the saber around. 

“Careful.” Starkiller snapped when one of CT-5555’s swings came a little too close to another clone’s head. Starkiller snatched the blade from the boy and deactivated it.

“That’s enough.” He said bitingly, then gentler, “That’s enough for today. Go do,” Starkiller waved his hand in a vague ‘everywhere’ motion, “Something.” Several of the clones laughed at that, which earned them a halfhearted glare from the bad-tempered teen.

A warm, hearty chuckle drew Starkiller’s attention. Master Ti stood just inside the doorway, smiling fondly at both her padawan and the young clones as they herded past her. Starkiller turned his head away, blushing furiously. 

“Starkiller,” Master Ti greeted gently, “Was that as harrowing and torturous as you thought it would be?” 

“Yes.” Starkiller muttered, but his face was set in a small frown, a telltale improvement from his usual scowl.

“How did your meeting go?” Starkiller asked before his master could reply. Those words drained the humor from her eyes.

“The Kaminoans- Nala Se, in particular- are not very inclined to acquiesce to certain ideals they believe are beneath them; Sentient Rights, for example.” Master Ti’s voice was delicate, but held an undercurrent of anger. Starkiller wet his lips.

“I could always...” he said, his voice low and controlled. To his surprise, Master Ti actually seemed to consider it.

“I think,” She said, after a moment’s contemplation, “That might cause more harm than good, in the way things are now.” Starkiller silently conceded the point. 

“What about the clones?” 

“I have brought in a few more bounty hunters to help train the cadets...”

“That’s not what I was asking.” Starkiller said roughly. 

“I have not yet found a solution. There is a reason I came for you, my dear padawan, more urgent matters, the Council has need of your... Expertise,” Master Ti cleared her throat, “There are rumors of an artifact that we believe may be of interest to the Separatists, to Dooku, in particular.” Starkiller scowled and crossed his arms.

“What’s the catch?”

“It’s located in a Sith temple, on Korriban.” Starkiller sighed and walked away, before turning sharply on his heel and stalking closer.

“Why send  _me_ ?” His voice was soft and dangerous.

“I did not wish it; I was overruled.” Starkiller snarled.

“Padawan,” Master Ti called as he turned to leave, “Please be careful, and may the Force be with you.”


	5. Chapter 5

Korriban was _hot_ ; a dry, burning heat that had Starkiller’s heavy robes clinging to his skin. Starkiller turned on his heel and walked back inside the tiny starship that had brought him here. The chilly air of the ship made his sweat-slicked skin clammy, but he ignored it, stripping off the outer layers of his robes until he was left in the thin base layer. The immediate problem dealt with, Starkiller exited the ship once more.  
The sun burned bright in the sky, the ground was a rolling expanse of sand dunes dotted with what might have once been buildings. Starkiller closed his eyes, reaching out with the force; the dark side was strong here, tugging him towards one of the crumbling, sand crusted ruins. He knew this sensation; a sith holocron lay somewhere in vestiges of what Starkiller was almost certain was once a sith academy, and it wanted him to come.  
Starkiller found himself instinctively moving forward, stepping high and clear of the sand which seemed to pull at his feet. Walking the few hundred meters to the edge of the crumbling building took a surprising amount of energy; Starkiller was exhausted, his muscles were shaking with the effort it took to keep him standing. He choked back a yawn.

There was no reason he should be this tired.  
Except-

The dark side artifact- he was almost certain it was not a holocron he was hunting.  
Starkiller stumbled into the ruin, hand braced on the wall to keep from falling. The closer he got the more drained he felt, tripping over rubble and slipping in piles of sand as he climbed the half destroyed staircase, skirted large holes in the floor, and eventually, collapsed on the sandy floor, a few meters away from the artifact.  
Starkiller tried to push himself back to his feet, but keeping his eyes open was a chore, and it felt as though his hand weighed as much as a Star Destroyer. Sand coated the inside of his mouth as his eyelids fluttered in a vain attempt to stay open...

  
“You are the one my Father brought?” the voice cut through the haze of sleep that held Starkiller in its grasp. His eyes opened, focusing blearily on a figure looming over him. A moment of white-hot panic shot through him and he scrabbled for his lightsaber. _**Inquisitor!**_

”You would have died had you touched it.” The figure continued, “Many others have. Their bones were ground to sand years ago.”

Starkiller tried to ask a question, but his mouth was dry and filled with sand.

“Pathetic...” the other said, and snapped their fingers. All at once, Starkiller’s exhaustion vanished. He jumped to his feet, drawing his lightsaber.

“Who are you‽” Starkiller spat.  
“I am called Son, and Brother and the Dark. I am the-“

“You’re a Force apparition; the personification of the dark side of the Force.” Starkiller said roughly, cutting off the being. The Son seemed pleasantly surprised at being so easily recognized.  
“What did you mean ‘brought here’? Explain yourself.” Starkiller half-snarled, leveling his blade at the Son.

“Put your little toy away, I cannot hurt you while you are under my Father’s protection,” the Son said waving a hand, “and stop slavering like a beast.” Starkiller reluctantly clicked off his lightsaber and hung it on his belt. 

“My Father,” the Son continued, satisfied now that Starkiller was obeying him, “Seems to think you will restore the Balance.” 

“You disagree?” 

** “ You belong in the Dark. You belong to the Dark. You belong to me. ** **”** The Son said, his voice taking on a resonant tone that made Starkiller shake with the effort of resisting the pull. 

“I bow to no man!” Starkiller roared.

_“You will...”_ the Son purred threateningly as he faded from view...

Starkiller shook his head to try to clear it.  Why was he on the ground? Hadn’t he been standing?  His head was fuzzy and his fingers ached from the death grip he had on a stone fragment. _I need to get back,_ he thought to himself. 

“I need to get back.” He said aloud, just to reassure himself that he was actually there.

The sand and heat was no more welcoming than it had been when he’d first landed, but the sting of sand and the burn of the sun were grounding. Starkiller’s head was still hazy from his experience- dream? 

He set the rock on the copilot seat, and without caring to put the rest of his robes back on, powered up the starship’s sublight engines, angling it up towards the atmosphere.


End file.
